


Not Her

by Atwistedoutcast, urdnotshepard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dobby Lives, Draco loves Hermione, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Slow Burn, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atwistedoutcast/pseuds/Atwistedoutcast, https://archiveofourown.org/users/urdnotshepard/pseuds/urdnotshepard
Summary: She'd first caught his attention on the train to Hogwarts 1st year.  They'd both been reading the same book on potions that was at least 4 years past their own.  Finding out her heritage had meant that he had to hate her, had to call her out on her lower birth and avoid her at all costs.  That's what he'd been taught his entire life.Yet when he looked at her, he didn't see an enemy.  He saw beauty, and kindness, and a redemption he'd never imagined he'd know.*Note* This story will begin in the middle, lol. We'll be starting our journey just before where we'll be completely breaking with canon in HP:DH.  This is the pivotal point at which Draco has to make a choice.  Everything after that will lead toward 8th year at Hogwarts and Draco and Hermione's past will be re-lived in flashbacks and memories.  Hopefully the timeline won't be too confusing and everyone will enjoy!Each chapter will specify whose POV (Draco, Hermione, or Dramione meaning back and forth between the two).  Hopefully this won't be too confusing!





	1. Chapter 1 - Draco

 ~*~*~ Chapter 1 – Draco ~*~*~

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. 

 

Well… alright no, it wasn’t really all _that_ hard to believe he was doing this if he was brutally honest.  Obsession just wasn’t quite a strong enough term really. And after 7 bloody years, you’d think he’d be used to it.

 

Yet as he found himself following the trace he’d placed on her (not that she knew or would appreciate said trace), he couldn’t bring himself to care. That pathetic Weasley had abandoned them.  He knew because he’d been watching, as he often did, anytime that he could escape the school or the manor.  The charm bracelet he’d given her let him scry her location and even see from time to time if he could risk it.

 

It had kept him sane.

 

And she was alone and she was hurting.  He’d seen her crying on her cot and it had just about broken him.

 

So he was standing under a disillusionment charm just inside her carefully placed wards.  If it hadn’t been for the trace, he’d never have found her, but apparently she was still wearing the charm bracelet.  He’d been able to pick apart the wards until he found her.

 

And seeing her now, just inside the tent with her head bowed to her knees, curled in around herself as she listened to the Wireless, he felt his heart constrict.  Merlin’s Beard, she was so thin… her cheeks were hollow and her eyes bloodshot.  And he didn’t care if the streaks that he could see on her cheeks were for that unworthy fucking ginger…

 

All that mattered was that Hermione Granger had been crying…

 

Cursing himself to the pits, he shook his head and moved forward, intent on pulling her into his arms to tell her that she wasn’t alone even if he could do nothing else for her. He just needed to hold her and tell her it was alright and promise her that he’d keep her safe no matter what-

 

His body stilled just as he was about to step inside the flaps of the tent and into the spacious interior.  His entire _being_ froze as he watched Potter suddenly step forward.  How had he forgotten that Saint Potter was still here?  He’d been so focused on her, on the sight of her misery, that he’d gone completely tunnel vision.  Uncle Sev would be utterly disgusted.

 

Cursing himself, he quickly ducked back out of the tent but remained to the side so that he could watch. And as he did, he felt his blood run as cold as the ice water she’d often accused it of carrying. 

 

Because as he watched, Potter moved forward and offered his hand.  Hermione eyed him uncertainly before accepting his hand up.  He stood before her and then reached for her neck in a gesture that was far too intimate for Draco’s taste.  His long-fingered hands clenched at his sides as Potter fiddled with something at her throat for a moment and then tossed aside a locket. Normally he’d have been curious to know what it was, but at the moment the only thing he could focus on was the fact that Potter still had his hands on his ‘Mione…

 

Harry pulled her further into the center of the main room of the tent.  And then he picked up both of her hands as though he had any damned right to touch her…  And then he was pumping her arms forward and backward in a rather pathetic imitation of dancing.  His ‘Mione shifted as she seemed to realize what was happening and then her beautiful face slid into that sort of half-exasperated, half-accepting expression he knew so well.

 

Of course… he knew all her expressions well.  He was an accomplished stalker after all…

 

And that meant that he knew when she allowed herself to accept the moment.  The lines of worry around her eyes eased… the slight crinkle of her lips curved upward… and then she was moving with him.  She was grace and elegance even in the inept ape’s arms… she was smiling… she laughed…

 

Draco whirled on his heel and stalked off, his entire body tight with rage and hatred and uncontrolled magic in the form of an icy mist seeming to radiate from him, freezing the grass, bushes and trees as he passed.

 

Yet it wasn’t truly just rage that was coursing through him… there was also no small amount of despair. 

 

As if competing with the Weasel wasn’t bad enough?  How could anyone compare to Harry Sodding Potter?

 

(*Author’s Note* We know that technically the dancing scene in the movie did not happen in the books, but it was a very poignant scene that works perfectly for this particular Dramione to add some angst and set up where we’re headed.  So, with that in mind, we are taking #fanficauthorliberties ;) It’s far from the furthest from canon we’ll go dear reader, lol, so bear with us and we hope you enjoy J   Also, if, for some insane reason, you haven’t seen that scene in Deathly Hollows or if you’d just like a refresher because it’s an awesome scene and you can see how Draco might misinterpret, here’s a linkJ<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejQDwjP_LVU>)


	2. Chapter Two: Hermione

The whispers were constant now. It didn’t seem to matter how little she actually wore the curse locket. The moment the chain settled around her neck, she’d swear an entire mountain settled on her shoulders. Sometimes she could fight it back—focus on the books, on learning every spell or bit of information she could get her hands on. Most of the time, she thought of her parents.

She knew Harry thought she was missing Ron, and she did, but not as much as she suspected other people thought. What she couldn’t seem to escape was the memory of watching her life melt into nothingness. Every milestone. Every celebration. Magic had never been more real, or visceral than it had been the day she made her parents forget she even existed.

The locket tapped into that well of agony, taunting her with how wonderful her parent’s lives were now that they didn’t have a witch for a daughter. Most days, she knew better. Her parents loved her. She remembered pancake breakfasts, and blanket forts with finger sandwiches and fruit (no useless sugars that might ruin her teeth). Days like today though? She wanted to rage at the world almost as much as she wanted to curl into a ball and cry herself to sleep.

The sudden shuffle of feet drew her attention, and she glanced up, watching as Harry moved toward her. She sagged visibly when he pulled the locket off. “I hate it.” She whispered shakily, casting a dark glower at the thing she was beginning to think they’d never destroy.

“We’ll figure it out Hermione.”

Good old Harry. A voice of reassurance as always, though how he could be positive anymore, she wasn’t sure. When he pulled her out into the center of the tent, she dragged her feet slightly, but she didn’t really fight him. He was trying to help. It felt wrong to not let him, and really, she needed a pick-me-up.

When he started jostling her arms in an attempt to get her dance, she gave in to a half-hearted laugh, and shook her head, slouching forward into him. “You’re a complete nutter Harry Potter.” She informed him primly, though a smile tugged at her lips. There were always whispers around the dormitory. What a reputation her best friend had. Half of the girls had wanted him to sweep them away to fame and fortune, and the other half were terrified he’d lead ‘you-know-who’ straight to their door (which was equally exciting of course).

Hermione just rolled her eyes at the lot of them, because she knew the truth. Harry didn’t want any of that. He just wanted to learn magic and be with his friends and family. He was beyond loyal, and she knew that in a pinch, he’d sacrifice himself for any one of them without thinking about it twice. That’s the kind of man he was. Her thoughts paused on the pronoun, and she realized that she didn't really think of any of them as 'kids' anymore. They had abandoned the school, and it's safety the same as a baby bird plunging over the edge of its nest. She watched him fuss over a tomb she knew he'd already skimmed through half a dozen times as if he might discover something different, a sadness that had nothing to do with the locket that glinted off of Harry's bunk twisted through her. They should have been contemplating the Yule Ball, or dreading midterms. She _missed_ her friend even though he sat just a few feet away. She missed the way he blushed when the girls flirted with him, and obnoxiously obsessed he could be during quidditch season. She missed studying potions, and groaning about divination class. This Harry played a good show, but she could see how the locket was slowly winnowing away at his very soul. 

It reminded her of another young man, with features meant to be handsome and glowing that were instead pallid and hollow.

Worn out. Haggard. The adjectives just kept rolling around in her head. Leaning into the dance more to hide her face than for any other reason, she turned her head, resting her cheek on his shoulder—only it wasn’t Harry’s shoulder she imagined, or even Ron’s. In fact, the hair that had tickled along her cheek had been white gold and spun silk (definitely softer than her own), and the narrow shoulder had been adorned in emerald silk, a damning color these days. The party itself had been a distant murmur as they danced along the boat dock, far from prying eyes. She remembered his laugh. His _true_ laugh. Not that sneering approximation he scoffed out when he was with his dim-witted cronies. Thinking of them spoiled the moment, shoving her back into the cold reality where those cronies could now hurt her and be supported.

Sighing, she pushed away from Harry with a sad smile before turning to move back to her bed. Plopping down, she dragged a pillow into her lap, wrapping around it.

As if reading her face, Harry said, “Ron’s gonna be fine Hermione.”

She glanced at him, tried for a smile and then just nodded numbly as she went back to staring at the floor. She couldn’t tell him who she was really worried about. He’d never understand. Most of the time she didn’t understand, but she did all the same. Shaking her head, she tumbled onto her side, curling up and said, “Wake me when its my turn to watch.” Then she closed her eyes and made herself think of Divination—the most boring and pointless of subjects in her opinion.

It was better than falling to sleep thinking about the enemy, right? Somehow, she wasn’t sure it mattered, but lies were all she had these days, and she clung to them desperately…


	3. Chapter 3 - Draco

~*~*~ Chapter 3, Draco ~*~*~

(*Author’s Note* Tried to keep as true to this scene as possible but, of course, I could never do better than the incredible J.K.  See link for the actual scene if you’re uncertain where this took place:  [ https://www.pottermore.com/book-extract-long/prisoners-taken-to-the-manor ](https://www.pottermore.com/book-extract-long/prisoners-taken-to-the-manor) )

He wasn’t sure how much longer  he could do this.  Resisting scrying her was becoming harder every day.  He’d managed it at first by means of his anger.  Seeing her dancing with Potter had been beyond disheartening.  It had just about destroyed him.

But anger had long since given way to his inevitable need.  She still hadn’t been found.  Which was good.  Yet he had no idea if she was alright.  He knew that she was alive, the bracelet would alert him if she was  seriously wounded or, Gods forbid, killed , but beyond that he had nothing.  Going through classes every day was torture.  The entire school had changed and even though he knew that his Godfather didn’t necessarily want things as… Dark… as they were, he had little control over them no matter his position.  With the Carrows teaching, everyone’s moves were watched.

And he didn’t have Hermione to compete with.  He didn’t get to steal glances at her in potions so that he could conversely be annoyed by and at the same time admire her skill.  He didn’t get to  feel the spike of resentment when Saint Potter or the Weasel harangued her away from her studies at lunch long enough to eat; or tease her into letting out that musical tinkling of laughter.  

He’d known his world had begun to revolve around her.  He’d had no idea how much he needed to just… just  _ see her _ …

Of course, upon reflection, he’d have preferred his state of need to what happened when the gate alarms  sounded and his mother went out to find out what was going on.  He and his father remained seated by the fire so that his father could continue to lecture him about how he needed to work harder to gain the Dark Lord’s good graces by recruiting more Death Eaters when he got back to school.  As if he gave two fucks about the ‘Dark Lord’ when all he wanted was to see-

“What is this?”

His head whipped up from the fire that he’d been studying as he tried to ignore Father’s lecture… and every single part of him stilled at the sight that met his eyes.

Hermione Granger.   _ His _ ‘ Mione … and she was in the Manor where he’d always dreamed of bringing her in the most secret, elicit parts of his mind…

And she was being held in a tight grip by that filthy rat  Scabior and drug forward along with the Weasel and… 

He frowned a s he took in the long, ratty black hair and swollen countenance of  the third individual .  He knew logically that it  _ must _ be Potter.  Hermione wouldn’t leave the bastard’s side, but what the devil-

“They say they’ve got Potter,” his mother said.  And despite its coldness, he could hear a hint of fear in her tones.  Still, her face was her normal, expressionless mask as she turned and said, “Draco, come here”

Draco rose slowly from the wingback armchair he’d been sitting in while he listened to Father drone and lecture , but his feet felt as though they were squelching through a sinking bog with every step that he took.  His stomach was lurching and it was taking everything within him not to look at her.  

_ Her _ … she was here.  His ‘ Mione .  In the  _ worst _ possible place for her to be…

‘Gods please…  _ please _ don’t let Aunt Bella come down.   Don’t let her see -‘

“Well Draco?” his father prodded, sounding far too excited at the prospect.  “Is it?  Is it Harry Potter?”

Draco felt all the eyes in the room fall to him and quickly ripped his gaze away from her.  He swallowed tightly, glancing at the swollen countenance he’d know anywhere after so many years resenting it, and finally shifted and said, “I can’t – I can’t be sure.”

He barely heard the ensuing argument.  His silver eyes had slid back to her.  His Hermione.  Gods how had this happened?  Every single nightmare that woke him in the night screaming, to the point that he’d had to put up silencing wards round his bed to keep his roommates from hexing him, was suddenly taking place.  She’d been captured.  His Hermione had been captured.  His mind raced through a thousand scenarios at once, trying to find a way to get her out of this.  She couldn’t be in the same home as Aunt Bella.  She couldn’t be near  Greyback .  She couldn’t…  _ she couldn’t!! _

“…could be the scar, stretched tight…”  

Draco’s ears tuned back in just in time for his father to suddenly grab hold of his arm in a bruising grip and yank him forward, thrusting him in front of Potter.  “Draco, come here, look properly!  What do you think?”

And then he was in front of him.  In front of Potter.  And for a single instant, he thought about calling him out.  He saw his ‘Mione in Potter’s arms, laughing and whirling through the dance… resting her head on his shoulder…  And for just an instant, he wanted to shout out who he was and watch as he was dragged away to the death he deserved for touching her .

But the instant passed before it even registered in his countenance.  Because it would hurt  _ her _ .  And that’s one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do.

“I don’t know,” he said, turning and walking brusquely back to the fire, his thin shoulders tight with what he prayed was perceived as his normal, spoiled Prince rebelliousness as opposed to what it truly was… blind terror.  His mind worked frantically through a thousand scenarios.  How could he get her out of this?  And the others, he had to get them out too or it would hurt her but… damnit how did he-

“Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?”

His mother’s voice made him jerk when he heard Hermione’s surname in it, and it was only through sheer force of will that he managed to keep from turning his head to look at her.  Gods please… please  please …

“I… maybe… yeah…” he said as noncommittally as possible.

He heard his father exclaim over Weasley.  Heard him stomping around the group and could practically  _ hear _ the seething dislike for the ginger in his tone as he called, “Draco look at him, isn’t  it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name –?”

He closed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and nausea roiling in his gut.  “Yeah,” he said, not turning, “it could be.”

He was just opening his mouth to say that they should give him a minute alone with them, planning to say that he could talk to them and be certain while his mind whirled through scenarios for them to make an ‘escape’-

When the door was thrown open and he heard the high-pitched, snarling tones of his aunt as she hissed, “What is this?  What’s happened, Cissy?”

Every ounce of hope drained from his body and his already-pale countenance became almost grey.  His eyes slid involuntarily to Hermione as horror slid through him.

No…


	4. Hermione

Hermione’s lungs were still burning from their mad attempt to evade the Snatchers. After running for so long they’d grown cocky and now they were paying for it. She didn’t dare glance over at Harry for even a moment. All she could do was pray the jinx held long enough for them to give up on the notion that they’d caught anyone of note.

The tall, dark green hedges had blurred beside them as the Snatchers dragged them up old, worn stone steps, and into a foyer ten times too big for its purpose. Everything about the house screamed unnecessary luxury—and yet it was faded somehow. Old. Not in a vintage ‘I’m-worth-more-because-of-my-age’ kind of way, but more of a faded 'no-one-pays-for-my-upkeep-anymore' way. She frowned, wondering who the house belonged to. Her heart figured it out before her brain had fully processed the most likely mansion. She didn't like the fact that Harry always assumed Snape or the Malfoys, but she couldn't deny how many times he'd been right to be suspicious either. As if conjuring her thoughts into reality, a pristine, mellifluous, and yet harsh voice cracked through the air, and she found herself watching Narcissa Malfoy tug her son forward.  

_“Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”_

_No_. Hermione willed the marble floor to open up and swallow her. They might have had a chance if it had been left to the beasts that had dragged them in, but Draco? She stared hard at the back of the snatcher hovering just in front of her. _Please, don’t give us away. Please, for once Draco, fight them._ Oh sure, he had his share of flaws, but she knew there was more to him. Despite the mark that now marred his arm—she knew Harry was wrong. Draco wasn’t really a Deatheater. Not in his heart.

She wasn’t sure when she’d gone from the girl willing to punch his lights out to the one that secretly championed him in the shadows of her mind, but she knew he got a bad rap. Harry and Ron would never see that, so of course she never let on that she felt otherwise. Just then, however, she wanted to be right more than she ever had in her life.

His non-committal responses were both relieving and nerve-wracking. She tried to rationalize, reminding herself that this situation couldn’t be any easier for him than it was for her. His parents were monsters (to her mind) and if she could have hexed Lucius Malfoy in his aristocratic face, she would have in a heartbeat. She had just hazarded a glance at him from beneath her lashes when the new voice coiled through the room.

She felt more than saw Harry stiffen and knew they were both remembering that voice, shrill and malicious as it reverberated through the Department of Mysteries. The grating cackle of triumph as she shouted her victories. _No, Harry you can’t!_ Sometimes her best friend’s temper just made him reckless and stupid. Now was definitely not the time for his normal ‘take-a-stance’ attitude.

The hands at her shoulders seemed to massage deeper, the older man’s foul-breath wheezing past her cheek as he nuzzled in, smacking his chops. Fenrir Greyback. There’d been plenty of stories about Greyback and his twisted band of Snatchers. She shuddered, recoiling into herself, even as she tried to twist farther away.

“Na-uh. Stayin’ right ‘ere girlie.” Fenrir snarled softly, wrapping his arm around her chest, one scarred, clawed hand wrapping around her shoulder as his elbow pushed into the other and he dragged her back into his body. She wanted to gag as the stench of old sweat and blood enveloped her, but the scene unfolding before her was getting more dangerous by the second.

“Whut’s happened to his face?”

A soft murmur of agreements went around the room, and the younger snatcher was quick to volunteer an explanation, clearly wanting to point out that the trio had given them quite a chase before they’d managed to snare them. When Bellatrix turned on her, sharp, beady black eyes gleaming, Hermione couldn’t quite keep from flinching. Stars she hated this woman—and she’d never expected to really ‘hate’ anyone.

“Was it you?”

She shook her head faintly, but no one was really paying attention to her because Bellatrix had paused in her pursuit when a glint of metal caught her eye. Veering off course, the dark witch moved like black liquid as she crossed the room to snatch the sword from the bag one of the snatchers wore slung over his shoulder. 

Hermione would have been embarrassed by how long it took her brain to realize that the witch was going on about the Gryffindor sword, but given the circumstances, she figured she could be forgiven the lapse. When Greyback released her to defend himself, she grabbed Ron’s hand, pulling him back to the wall. She searched the room, desperate for anything she could use to get them out before it was too late. If Bellatrix figured everything out, she'd summon Voldemort, and they weren't ready. Not yet. 

For a moment, her attention snagged on Draco—he was taller than she remembered, his hair still impossibly pale and soft looking, but he was thin. Almost painfully so. His cheeks were hollow, and if there had ever been laughter on those lips, it had been too long for his features to recall the expression. _Why can’t you see what they’re doing to you?_ She wanted to rail at him, but he was standing beside his parents, and hadn’t she proved already that they would go to extraordinary lengths to protect their family? (Of course the rational part of her wanted to point out that _her_ parents had loved her and taken care of her, but she suspected Draco would claim the same thing, even if it was obvious that their love demanded he sacrifice himself.)

Suddenly Bella was in front of them. She grabbed Ron by his hair, wrenching his head around as she dragged him back toward the snatchers, yelling at them to take 'the boys' to the dungeon. Hermione's stomach clenched with dread as the witch turned back to face her. “We’re going to ‘ave a chat. Girl to girl.” Bella crooned the words, and yet somehow they were still more threatening than the greatest bellow of a troll.

The first curse hit her with no warning (beyond the promise of excited anticipation in Bellatrix’ black eyes). There was a reason they were unforgivable. Agony ripped through her body, driving her to her knees as her nerves jangled and her muscles refused to hold her up. The cruciatus seemed to go on, pulsing until she was splayed out on the floor, and no matter how hard she tried to contain herself, the scream that ripped from her lips seemed to shred at the air.

“How did you get it?” Bellatrix was suddenly on top of her, her whispering hiss somehow still a shriek. “That sword should have been in my vault!”

Hermione shook her head, in too much pain to care if anyone saw her crying—even Draco. “I didn’t take it.” She vowed, clinging to the lie, because the truth was even more dangerous than the witch ready to torture her.

“I don’t believe you…” Bella said in an almost sing-song voice, laughing before she began to carve into the tender skin of her arm.

Hermione screamed. _Please pass out before I betray my friends. Please._

Bella sat back, a broad, a Cheshire grin stretching across her too-thin lips. “Not to worry little _mudblood_.” She smiled as she licked her wand. “I have ways of making you talk.” She promised.

Hermione couldn't breath. She was paralyzed, her very _being_ trembling. Even if she'd doubted before (which she hadn't) the last few minutes would have been enough to convince her that Bellatrix Lestrange was capable of _anything_. Magic was as much about intent as it was about technique and precision. She'd always believed that was what held Neville back. He practiced each wand movement so carefully, and she'd heard him whispering the words of spells he cared about over and over, but when the moment came, Neville failed because he didn't believe _he_ had magic and so he didn't really _feel_ the spell.

Those had not been love nips Bellatrix had thrown. The strength of Bella's cruciatus as it ripped through her nervous system was like having a flood of angry hatred dumped onto her in the form of a hail storm. She was at once numb, and yet stabs of pain danced over and through her. The dark witch seemed to _reveled_ in her pain. In the power and the ability to exercise her desires in whatever way she saw fit. Hermione locked her jaw, her body still jerking involuntarily. _Think about Harry and Ron._ She couldn't let herself think about  _him_. 

Something seemed to will her to open her eyes, and when she did, she found herself staring into Draco's swirling silver eyes. Only this time there were no text books, or potion labs separating them. Hatred and a war they neither of them wanted stood between them. _Please Draco._ And she knew that whatever happened in the next few moments would decide everything. He would make a choice, and she would have to accept it--assuming she survived it. It was an insane notion, especially given the tortuous intent of Bellatrix' casting, but that empty aching sadness was back because she was terrified she already knew what his choice would be.

She didn't for even a heart beat imagine that it would be in favor of her.

Feeling oddly reckless in the wake of that terrible sadness, she steeled herself, determined to be strong, and lifted her chin as much as she could. “I didn’t take anything.” She insisted, closing her eyes once again as she braced herself for the punishment she knew the witch was eager to dole out. _We’ll get out of this. We always do._ She clung to the mantra, trying to focus on that instead of the jolts of electric pain Bella was intent on wielding.

_We’ll get out of this—or I’ll die, but you won’t get anything out of me._

“Ooh look. The little mudblood’s got spunk.” Bellatrix trilled with malicious amusement, and in the next moment, skeletal thin hands were twisting into her hair as the witch wrenched her head back, her wand jabbing into her neck. “Not to worry. I’ll remind you of your place little _mudblood_.” She promised.

Hermione stared up into the woman’s black, empty gaze—and believed her.


	5. Chapter 5 - Draco

~*~*~ Chapter 5 – Draco ~*~*~ 

 

Her eyes were the colour of rich dark chocolate. 

 

It was one of the first things that he’d noticed about her.  She had deep, beautiful eyes. They radiated intelligence and self-confidence.  They said that she knew her own strength and her own talent and she would not allow anyone to get in the way of something that she wanted.   

 

And as those deep pools of rich chocolate slid upward to meet his own silvery gaze, he felt every last ounce of uncertainty melt away.  As he’d stood there by the fire and tried to keep himself rigid and aloof, he’d tried to convince himself that there was nothing he could do.  If he tried to protest, Bella would turn those blows on him regardless of his parents being there.  If he looked in any way as though he gave a damn about what was happening to a mudblood, he’d be betraying the mark on his arm and the cause he was supposed to be championing.   

 

And he’d been telling himself that he  _couldn’t_ just do that.  It wasn’t that simple.  He was a Malfoy.  This was his world.  These were the ideals that were supposed to matter.  His entire life had been built around being the perfect Malfoy... generally in an effort to please his impossible-to-please-Father.  That was one lesson he’d learned very, _very_ early on: you did whatever was necessary to keep Father happy. 

 

Of course, his father had made certain he learned that lesson quickly.  Dobby had been assigned as his ‘whipping elf’ when he was 3 years old and broke an ancient family vase.  It didn’t matter that the entire manor was filled with ‘ancient family heirlooms’ that were _far_ from child-friendly; what mattered was that Draco understand their importance and the need to respect them and his family.  So, every time that he did something his father disapproved of, his father would punish Dobby.  He’d beat the elf senseless in punishment for Draco’s infractions, making Draco watch as he did, and snarling at him that this was his fault.  One of his first memories was of watching the elf’s left ear be nearly detached as he was thrown across the room and into a mirror.  And then he’d had to not only fix the mirror, but punish himself for breaking it in the first place. And Draco had been forced to watch while the elf had then been forced to sew his ear back into place before sewing his mouth shut when he cried out at the agony.   

 

All because Draco had broken a vase... 

 

Not, of course, that his father had stopped at just beating Dobby if Draco truly tested him, but Mother was more likely to risk father’s wrath and intervene if it was Draco he was taking his anger out on.  She typically tried to stay out of Lucius’s way just as Draco did, but that didn’t mean she was always successful.  To her mind, the elf being beaten was a small price to pay if it kept Draco from being hurt.   

 

So he’d learned very early on to do everything right.  He had friends with the right names.  He excelled in his classes.  He was prepped for a future with the Ministry and to carry on the Malfoy name... the perfect pureblood heir.  At least... that’s how it looked to the world at large. 

 

But as those eyes met his, every seed of doubt he’d ever felt as he mechanically recited the pureblood ideals, blossomed into a tree of rebellion.  And when Bella moved back toward the only girl he’d ever looked at with pure hunger and need, the only girl he’d ever even _tried_ to go against his parents for, even if only in his secret little ways, he finally made a choice. 

 

A choice that would probably get them both killed... but a choice none the less... 

 

Palming his wand, he moved silently forward.  And when he saw the word ‘Mudblood’ carved into her delicate flesh, his grip on his wand tightened and his silver eyes hardened to steel.  What happened to him didn’t matter.  But no more harm could come to her. 

 

Not her.  Never her. 

 

Lifting his arm as silently as a wraith, he pointed it at his Aunt’s back and, with a calm confidence whose source lay entirely in liquid pools of chocolate brown, he said, “Expelliarmus! Stupify! Incarcerous.” 

 

The words were said with a quick, ruthless efficiency so that the witch, who’d had her back to him as she tormented her prey, was rid of her wand, knocked out, and bound all in the space of a heartbeat. 

 

Before his parents, who had been standing in the far corner of the library arguing, could more than look up in horror, he knelt down and grabbed her into his arms.  He snatched up the sword that had fallen beside her when Bella had been knocked backward simply because having another weapon seemed like a good idea, as well as his Aunt’s wand so that Hermione would have one since hers had no doubt been taken.  And then he looked once more at his mother’s horror-filled countenance before he apparated away from the only home he’d ever known (chamber of horrors though it had become after his father invited the Dark Lord to stay there) with the only girl he’d ever loved clutched tight into against his chest. 

 

And he was, well and truly, screwed...


	6. Hermione

His arms were much stronger than they looked.

It was an odd thought, but it was the only thing she could really focus on because it was _real_. Her mind couldn’t quite wrap around the rest. He’d actually done it. One moment she’d been praying, agony burning through her body as Bellatrix ‘played’, and in the next he lifted his wand and the world had stopped spinning.  
Draco Malfoy had turned his wand on Bellatrix Lestrange. He’d defied his parents.

He’d saved her.

The world had solidified around them, but she was still recovering. More from what _he_ had done, than from Bella’s little torture session. She stared hard at the fine linen fabric of his shirt, her brain scrambling to rationalize this new situation. Surely, he hadn’t defied everyone for _her_?

He shifted, adjusting his hold, though he only seemed to curl her tighter instead of lowering her to her feet as he should have. There was no reason to hold her now after all. She told her hands to push him away. Reminded herself that regardless of the unexpected turn of events, it wasn’t okay to be in his arms. But it had been a long time since she’d thought of him as an enemy, and the only word she could really seem to associate with the feel of his arms around her was comfort.  
So instead she twisted more into him, wrapping one arm around his neck as she turned her face into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. For whatever reason, he had done it, and for the moment they were safe.

She hauled back, her eyes going wide as she realized who wasn’t safe.

Harry and Ron. She’d left them behind! She hadn’t even thought of them. What kind of friend was she? She backed up another thought, digging a trembling hand into her wild chestnut locks. “H-Harry and Ron. They’re still there!”

And by now they had to know that it was Harry. With Draco grabbing her, how could they draw any other conclusion? She glanced back up at him, dark eyes bright with more emotions than she could begin to sift through, and while she meant to say ‘we have to go back’ what she said instead was, “I can’t believe you did that…Why did you do that?” She demanded even as shock gave way to a new fear.

Just when she’d begun to think she’d experienced the full range of what that emotion could do to her, life decided to smack her around just a little bit more. That wasn’t Slytherin house he’d just abandoned. He’d chosen her over his family. Over the Deatheaters.

Most important, he’d chosen her over Voldemort.

At least that’s how she saw it, and it was all the permission she needed (in her mind anyway). She closed the gap that she’d created, and impulsive as it was, threw her arms around his neck. When his arms wrapped around her again, she couldn’t help the instant sense of calm that filled her. _This is insane!_ But it was a wonderful insane. Unfortunately, her brain didn’t seem to have an off button because he’d barely squeezed her back before she was shaking her head and diving into a lecture. “What were you thinking? They’ll be after you as much as Harry!” She pulled back even farther, rubbing her temple because her brain just couldn’t seem to decide what was more important.

Draco’s imminent death or Harry’s.

Loyalty and years of friendship told her that Harry and Ron needed to be her primary concern. She knew what those two would have to say about it, but they’d never looked at Draco the way she did. They’d never seen him truly laugh, or caught him in the hallway giving snacks someone’s wandering cat. Okay, so that had been Crookshanks, but still—way nicer than anyone gave Draco Malfoy credit for.

She nodded firmly to herself, pushing at his chest to get him to release her. “You have to go into hiding.” She said adamantly. Because he was dead if any of the Deatheater’s caught up with him. She could only imagine what Snape would do. She shuddered at the thought, and tipped her head back to peer up at him when he didn’t immediately release her. “You know I’m right.” She added, fear and worry clawing at her insides.


	7. Chapter 7 - Dramione

(*Author’s Note* This is the first chapter where you’ll have the POV switching during the chapter between Hermione and Draco.  To help make things more clear, we’ll try to make certain that all of Draco's POV are unbolded **,** **while all of Hermione’s POV will be bold**.  If that just confuses all of you more, lol, just give a shout in the comments 🙂  )

~*~*~ Chapter 7, Dramione ~*~*~ 

Harry and Ron.  Her first words had been about the Scarhead and the Weasel.

He was such a complete idiot...

He was just preparing to make himself let her go and start dealing with the fallout of his bout of insanity... when he suddenly found his arms full of her again.  He blinked in shock but he wasn’t stupid enough to question it.  He just wrapped his arms tighter around her and buried his face in her hair.  For being so bushy, you’d never imagine it would be so soft and she’d been on the run for ages so how did it manage to still smell so sweet and _Gods_  her perfume was just- 

 _“What were you thinking? They’ll be after you as much as Harry!”_  

Draco jumped at the vehemence of her sudden words and his insane thought processes managed to draw to a halt.  He again opened his mouth to speak but she was going on with her chastisement before he could.

And then he was just looking at her with an expression that was a mixture of exasperation and adoration.  In fact, it was rather a good thing he was normally able to school his features better, otherwise there wouldn’t be a person alive who didn’t know that he fancied her.

Finally he sighed, moved forward and caught hold of her beautiful face between his hands.  Leaning in close he growled, “Granger, take a breath before I hit you with a stupefy!”  Or kiss you.

His eyes slid to her mouth and he reflexively licked his lips before he forced himself to concentrate.  Shaking his head he said, “Now, how badly are you hurt?” 

**She had to have imagined that flicker of his eyes. Even she wasn't convinced, and she found she couldn't quite keep from licking her lips before she realized he'd asked her a question. "Oh, um," She looked down, suddenly flustered. Why did he have to be so good about that? Shaking her head, she pulled back even more, finally realizing that her arm was throbbing. Lifting it, she winced as the tatters of her ripped and bloodied shirt fell back from the sharp, jagged lines of the letters Bellatrix had carved into her forearm. "She didn't get to finish." She offered lamely**

**Her brain seemed to take her acknowledgement of the injury as permission to flood her with the rest of its abuse and her knees almost buckled. Closing her eyes, she curled her other hand into the tail of her shirt, wrapping it tight as she steeled herself. "There is a reason that curse is forbidden." She growled, finally before turning her attention to her surroundings, hoping for a place where she could clean up. Latching onto that purpose, she did her best to ignore her body's protest. "Where are we?" That was a much topic to focus on.**

**She twisted slowly, taking in the small room of what appeared to be a cottage. It was decorated sparsely with two faded blue armchairs placed before a simple fire place adorned by a vase of dead flowers. It had apparently been a while since anyone had visited. It wasn't much, but it was a small comfort. She turned back to Draco and asked, "Is there a lavatory?"**

Draco sighed and finally reached out and picked her up again.  Ignoring her squeak of protest, he turned and moved toward the bedroom and said, "This is one of my Godfather's safehouses.  I believe this one isn't far from Bramley in Surrey."  When her head whipped suddenly toward him he nodded in agreement.  "Yes, I'm aware it's a muggle village.  Uncle likes to make fun of others for their paranoia, but he has safehouses all over in both muggle and wizard areas.  Given... everything... it seemed best to go with muggle." 

Realizing that he was babbling a bit, he shifted and then cleared his throat and finally set her down on the sink in the little bathroom attached to the bedroom.  Twisting, he opened a cabinet and then cursed as he grumbled, "Why does he always put the bloody dittany at the back?" before he leaned forward.  His arm disappeared almost to the shoulder before he pulled back, holding a small brown vial.  Taking hold of her hand, he pulled it forward and said, "Hold still 'Mi- Granger.  This will likely sting."

**She bit her lip, watching him through her lashes as she wondered what he'd been about to call her. It had sounded suspiciously like a nickname--as though he thought of a different name when he thought of her. Not 'Granger'. Fortunately, he applied the dittany before she did something stupid like ask him what, and the promised sting had her sucking in a sharp breath. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, nostrils flaring as the herb helped her skin stitch itself back together. Soon all she could see beneath the smear of liquid were angry little red lines that continued to fade. In a few hours it would be as if the letters had never been.**

**His hands were impossibly gentle as he finished healing her wound and then cleaned her arm. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him move so carefully, even when he competed with her in potions. It was as if he suddenly had all the patience in the world, and she was momentarily befuddled. "Thank you." She said softly, though the words weren't even close to expressing her gratitude. He'd literally saved her life, and now he was taking care of her. She wasn't even sure if there was a way to ever truly thank him, not when she thought about what it could cost him--what it had already cost him.**

**"Will you be safe here?" She asked, her mind already shifting gears. She had to go back. She couldn't leave Harry there, but she certainly couldn't take Draco back into that viper's den. It was entirely too dangerous...**

For a moment, he just stared at her in confusion as he tried to understand what she was talking about.  In his defense, he wasn't accustomed to anyone but his mother particularly caring about his safety.  Well... she and his Uncle, but his worry was typically couched alongside such thick, heavy helpings of snide remarks that you regretted worrying him to the point that you tried to avoid _ever_ doing it again.

Realizing with a jerk that his thumb was still caressing over her skin where the hateful words were slowly dissipating, he pulled back and quickly capped the potion.  Pulling out his wand, he began to run a diagnostic spell on her as he said, " _You_ will be perfectly safe here, yes."  He frowned at the readout on the side of his wand before he reached into the cabinet again for another potion.  "There's enough food under preserving charms to keep you for a week or so."  He found the potions he was looking for and nodded as he handed them to her, "And there's muggle money for the market in town."

When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand and said, "Don't worry Granger.  I'll go and get," his face screwed up slightly before he managed to not _quite_ spit out, "Potter and Weasley."   

**"What?!" She sat forward on the counter, immediately reaching out to grab his hand. "That's utter madness!" She shook her head adamantly. "No. You can't." She said, recognizing the obstinate gleam that lit his quicksilver eyes almost immediately. After six years of standing at Harry's side, she'd seen it one too many times to mistake it, and it almost always heralded trouble. Pushing off the counter, oblivious to how petite she looked thanks to the way he loomed over her, she faced off with him, her pointed little chin notching up even higher (bloody giant!). "I mean it _Malfoy_." She said, adopting his habit of calling her by her last name. "Going home would be like intentionally walking into a room of dementors. In other words, completely, and totally ridiculous! So don't you even think about arguing with me. We'll figure something else out."  
**

**She glanced around worriedly before turning to move back down the short hallway into the main room where she thought she'd seen a little kitchen. He'd mentioned food, and she was starving. Normally, Ron was the one obsessed about food. "You're sure your Godfather won't--" She paused, a frown marring her brow. "Wait... Isn't _Snape_ your Godfather?" She asked, fear twisting up her stomach so tight that the desire for food faded quite abruptly. "I know you probably think it's safe here Draco, but it's not. He'll be looking for you, and he's a lot smarter than the snatchers."**

Having to do a quick backpedal to keep from bowling her over when she stopped, he cursed and quickly juggled the potions that she'd pushed aside even as he grumbled, "Damnit Granger, you need these!  You don't just walk off a bloody crucio and-"

He sighed when she began to fret again and moved forward, taking hold of her arms.  Pushing her the rest of the way into the kitchen, he pushed her down into a chair and said, "Drink."  When her stubborn little chin went up in that way that made him want to conversely hex her and kiss her at the same time, he rubbed his hand over his face and prayed for patience.  "Yes, Snape is my-" he paused, his brows drawing together as he said, "Wait... how did you know he's my Godfather?  Even Crabbe and Goyle don't know that."  He hesitated, then admitted, "Well... not that they'd really understand what the term Godfather even means, but that's beside the point."

Shaking his head, he cursed and said, "Regardless, I assure you, we're safe here.  Now will you take the bloody potions Granger?" 

**Hermione flushed faintly at the question. She forgot sometimes exactly how much they snooped into other people's business. Fortunately, he blazed right past the question, pushing his potions at her again. She sighed at him, but took the potion, her little nose crinkling faintly. She'd once been awestruck by potions and everything they could do. Now she knew they were worse than choking down a dose of cough syrup. He was right though, because her nerves were still jangling, and while she'd managed to push past the pain to focus on more important things, it was still there. She made one more face at the vial he'd thrust at her, and then uncorked it and tossed it back.**

**It was a little better than polyjuice potion, but not much. Gagging, she turned her face away as the bitter concoction slid down her throat, but the effects were immediate. Relaxing as her body healed, she sank back into the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. "Thank you." She murmured, finally opening her eyes to peer up at him again. God this was so strange! Every nightmare she had faced in the last few years, it had always been Harry and Ron standing opposite her, most often with Harry fretting and Ron whining, so she was always taking care of them. It was strange to have someone take care of _her_. She searched the hard planes and angles of his face, as if that would give her some insight into this new situation, but his face was as difficult to read now as it had ever been. **

**"Regardless of what you think, we shouldn't stay here for long, Draco." She insisted again, finally forcing her brain to focus on what was important. As far as she was concerned, neither of them were safe. They could stay for the night, but then they needed to go--or he did anyway. Unfortunately, she had to go back to the Malfoy's. She couldn't leave Ron and Harry there. Merlin only knew what had happened after they'd left. An involuntary shudder washed down her spine as she thought of Bellatrix's fury when she was released from Draco's spells.**

Sighing, he resisted the desire to defend his uncle.  He knew what most people thought about the man. He just  _also_ had a vastly different perspective on him than 'most people'.  Severus was the one who held him as he cried silently after one of Father's beatings.  He was the one who'd comforted him after Father had bought his way onto the Slytherin team without even bothering to let him try out.  The one who'd supported him and listened to him no matter what was happening, even if only in the dark confines of his quarters at Hogwarts or behind wards and spells in Draco's own room at the Manor. 

As far as he was concerned, Severus Snape was his Da, regardless of his bloodline.

But Uncle Severus only let him see those moments because he knew that Draco would never speak of them to another.  So he focused on his wand and ran a few more diagnostic spells before he finally allowed the tight muscles of tension at the base of his spine to relax.  She was alright.  Thank the Gods... she was alright.

Well... if one ignored the fact that Bella had used a special poison on her blade when she cut Hermione which meant that the word that had been carved into her flesh would scar regardless of the healing and potions.  Bella liked scars...

Realizing suddenly that his fingers were caressing over that delicate inner wrist, he yanked his hand back and turned to stalk deeper into the kitchen, searching for some food for her.  And as he did he said, "Right, now I suppose you'll insist we get your precious savior and boyfriend back."  He bent to the small... cooler thing... Sev had given it a name but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was.  He just opened the door and pulled out some of the food kept under anti-decay charms and began to make her a sandwich even as he called out, "Dobby, I need you."

**A sudden crack of sound ricocheted through the room and Hermione jumped, her hand immediately dropping to yank up her wand--only she didn't have one. For a moment panic enveloped her, and she took several stumbling steps back around the table and chair as her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest.**

**"Draco Malfoy called Dobby?"**

**Hermione's eyes locked on Dobby, and she wilted back against the wall, closing her eyes. God she was sick of this panicky feeling! Blowing out a soft breath and doing her best to be calm when she was anything but, she focused on the floppy eared house elf she was all too familiar with thanks to Harry. She eyeballed the house elf uncertainly, but she knew that he was free. Answering Draco had not been necessary and that gave her hope. House elves had their own powers after all. Even after her crusade to free them, she still knew very little about them, and she knew even less about Dobby. He was certainly his own elf.**

**As though he'd heard her thoughts, the house elf's wide lantern eyes shifted from Draco to her, and then he practically beamed. "Dobby glad to see Harry Potter's friend!"**

Draco had blinked in shock when she'd scrambled backward, but he'd seen the familiar movement of her hand and understood it.  Cursing himself, he abandoned the food he'd been working on (a sandwich was the safest bet, it wasn't like he had the first clue how to cook after all) and moved quickly toward her.  "I'm sorry, I'm a bloody idiot," he grumbled.  Reaching into his robes, he quickly pulled out Bella's wand and handed it to the beautiful witch.  "Here.  I'm sorry it's not yours but... I figure any wand is better than none so-"

Realizing that he was babbling slightly, he quickly turned away and focused on the house elf.  And unbeknownst to him, his eyes softened slightly as he said, "Hey Dobby.  Yes, I called for you."  He ignored the reverence with which his former-whipping-elf used that ponce Potter's name and said, "I need you to go to the Manor and bring back two people in the cellar.  Would you be willing to do that?" he asked.  After all, unlike his father and even his mother, he'd always tried to ask the elf rather than order him and he asked him for very little.

That tended to happen when you were forced to watch a creature pour boiling water over his chest because you spilled soup on your cravat...

**Dobby bounced up onto the table, looking from Hermione to Draco intently before he turned to her and said proudly, "Harry Potter safe. Dobby helped!"**

**"Really?" Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at the wand Draco had given her. She would have recognized that unyielding walnut claw that had so recently been used to torture her anywhere. She wasn't sure she even wanted to put her hand on it, let alone try to use it, but then Hermione believed that wands were singular to the witch and wizard that used them. She loved her wand. It was attuned to _her_ magic. There was no telling what Bellatrix Lestrange's wand was capable of given what she'd seen it do. She thought of Sirius and she recoiled faintly from the wand, focusing instead on Dobby. **

**"Can you take me--" She paused and glanced at Draco before amending, "Can you take us to him?"**

**She knew how Harry and Ron would react, of course. It wasn't as if either had ever bothered to hide how much they hate the other, but just then, she didn't really care. She wanted to know her friends were safe, and she wanted to be sure Draco was safe too. He'd risked everything to get her away from Bellatrix, and she would not repay that debt by abandoning him here. Despite what he said about his godfather, she knew they'd track him to the house soon enough. The farther away they could be, the better.**

Us.  

That was  _really_ not fair fighting.  To include him as though he meant something to her.  It took his every protest and seemed to swallow it whole.  Because she'd said 'us'.

Closing his eyes and imagining the various and inventive ways that his Godfather would call him an idiot in those sibilant tones of his, he sighed and said, "You really will be the death of me."

Taking a deep breath, he finished the sandwich (a rather haphazard looking thing with far too much meat slapped between a couple of hunks of bread with a chunk of cheese) and pushed it into her hands before he said, "Fine.  Take us there."

**Dobby looked between them, his lantern eyes seeming to swallow his face they were so huge, before he grinned and focused on Draco. "Draco wants to be with Harry Potter?" He asked, clearly excited by this turn of events. This his ears deflated. "Harry Potter--"**

**"Will get over it." Hermione said abruptly, swiping the wand up and shoving it up her sleeve. She grabbed the sandwich (seemed wrong to ignore it since he'd made it for her) and then she nodded to Dobby. "Alright Dobby, take us to them please." She was always careful how she phrased things. Despite the general opinion that the elves were happy with their lot, she had never quite been able to dismiss the fact that they were treated like slaves by so many.**

**Dobby eye-balled them both, clearly weighing them and the potential danger to his very favorite wizard before he held his hand out. "Dobby happy to help!" He announced, and the moment that their hands wrapped around his spindly little fingers, the world was spinning out of focus...**


	8. Dramione

~*~*~ Chapter 8, Dramione ~*~*~

He'd barely materialized back into existence before he felt a fist slam into his gut and his wand yanked out of his hand.  And when he managed to look upward, wincing slightly, it was to see the spectacled git Potter pointing his own bloody wand at him. 

Fantastic.

Draco bit back a sigh as he straightened, holding back a wince by sheer force of will.  Digging deep, he found a sneer and his pointed chin went upward as he said, "Honestly Potter, you might want to get a few muscle-building potions.  Granger packed a better punch four years ago."

Ok... so  _maybe_ antagonizing someone pointing a wand at you wasn't the best idea but, hey, he'd had a stressful sort of day.

Harry blinked myopically between he and Hermione for several moments and Draco debated whether to offer to clean off his ridiculous glasses, but before he could the other man seemed to collect his wits (what there were of them) and said, "Hermione?"  His grip on Draco's wand tightened and he added, "Quick, come away from him.  Ron and I have him."

**Hermione had expected exactly that reaction, which was why she sprang forward the moment the world felt solid beneath her again, though not surprisingly, before Harry had reacted. Forcing her way between them, she threw her hand up toward Harry. "Stop!" She shouted. "You..." She turned back to Draco and said, "just stay there for a moment please?" She didn't really give him a chance to argue, just grabbed Harry and Ron by the hand and jostled them down the beach some ways down.**

**Harry didn't take his eyes off of Draco, and he kept the captured wand firmly aimed. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew Draco Malfoy, and that was enough. "Whut's going on Hermione?" He demanded roughly. Getting out of the mansion had not been a cake walk. Worse, they hadn't been able to find Hermione. When Dobby had returned to the cellar, the keys had been rattling, but he hadn't seen who'd been on the other side. Disoriented or not, when he'd seen Draco appear, he'd reacted first. It was a little reassuring to have a wand back in his hand, but not much.**

**Hermione kept her hands warded up, and said, "Just let me explain." She said quickly, her heart racing once again. "He saved me."**

Ron was still gripping his wand in both hands and pointing it menacingly toward Malfoy.

The blonde git had the nerve to smirk and give a little wave.

He tightened his grip and growled, "Harry... he's put some kinna spell on Hermione!  She's talkin' nonsense!" 

**She almost growled, so intense was her frustration. "No!" She shouted, actually stomping her foot as her emotions overwhelmed her. "No!" She said again, pointing at each of them. "He made his choice. He cursed Bellatrix and saved me with his parents watching! There's no going back from that. He's on _our_ side, like it or not." **

**Harry's wand waffled, lowering several inches as his green eyes darted past her shoulder to the blonde standing some ways down the beach. "He cursed Bellatrix."**

**Hermione nodded slowly, dropping her hands slightly, though her heart was still pounding. Somehow this was harder than facing Deatheaters. These were her friends. They'd been together through thick and thin. Shared _everything_ , and she knew how they felt about Draco. She even understood it to a certain extent. It wasn't like Draco had gone out of his way to be nice. Seeing that she was winning Harry over, she focused on Ron. "He could have just stood there Ron. She was torturing me. If he were with _them_ he would have done nothing. He just betrayed everyone and everything he knows to save me. Please...give him a chance?"**

From down the beach, Draco watched as she began one of her rapid-fire-speeches and felt himself wincing in sympathy for them despite how much he disliked the pair on principal.  When Hermione Granger got her mad on,  _especially_ when she got to the stomping of her foot level?  Well, his nose still felt as though it bent slightly to the left more than it had before.

The smirking bravado was only a surface layer to throw off the scent however. Inside, he was trying desperately to draw back into himself.  He'd held her in his arms, touched her, smelled her sweet scent... and her first words had been for these two.  It didn't get much more 'dig your head out of your ass' than that.  Hades, the image of her dancing with Potter was still carved into the fleshy walls of his mind and bleeding profusely.

Why was he doing this to himself?  Why?!

And then her eyes slid to his as she spoke... and the corners of those pools of dark chocolate softened... her lips flirted with the edges of a reassuring smile...

Oh yeah... that was why...

"You've got to be  _joking_!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock and horror the more she spoke.  "If that ponce helped, it was probably so he could lead the Death Eaters to us more easily!"  

The redhead shifted and all three of them stared at one another for several moments... then he finally cursed and held up a hand, saying, "A'right, I grant you that doesn't make a lot of sense given where we were but  _still_!  He's... Hermione he's one of  _them_.  He can't be trusted!"

**She took a step closer, her expression beseeching. "How can we constantly preach that the Deatheaters are wrong if we're not going to let them change? Why say anything at all if we're going to condemn all of them no matter what?" It was actually a topic she'd given a lot of thought, long before this. A girl had her hopeless fantasies after all, and deep down, part of her had played out this possibility. Not that she'd ever really expected Draco to actually side with them, but she'd hoped.**

**Well hope had become reality, and they'd just have to face it.**

**Harry shifted, still not quite lowering the wand. "But Hermione...its Draco. He tried to kill Dumbledore." He reminded her on a growl.**

**She closed her eyes, the memory still stinging. "But he didn't." She pointed out determinedly. "He made a choice then Harry. How can you be so blind to who he really is?"**

"How can you?!" Ron shouted, causing Draco to frown and take a step closer in a protective movement he wasn't even aware of, his hands clenching into fists.  

Ron was oblivious to this as his face continued to grow redder and he shouted, "Hermione, be reasonable!  That is Draco Sodding Malfoy!  Even if he didn't kill Dumbledore, that hardly means we oughta just trust him!  I'm tellin' ya, he wouldn't have done this if he didn't have a damn good reason!  Probably on orders from You-Know-Who or something!"

Draco cocked a brow at the redhead and for a moment, his eyes slid to Hermione's and there was a clear, 'I do not understand your taste,' in them before he crossed his arms over his chest and merely waited.

But if anyone imagined that he wasn't completely focused on the redhead, they'd be sadly mistaken.  He was watching every single move that he made.  And if he kept shouting at his 'Mione, he'd find out that Draco didn't need a wand to do damage...

**"Be reasonable?!" She shouted, her petite frame suddenly vibrating with rage. "I have been chased, captured, felt up and sniffed, and tortured. You can be assured that my ability to manage calm and rational has been seriously compromised Ronald Weasley. I am tired, hungry, sore, and my patience is _non existent_. So lets just be clear. _I'm_ vouching for him. If you can't trust him, then I'm out too. He saved my life today, and the price was his. Do you really think Bellatrix is going to be smiles and ice cream if she sees him again? What about the rest of the Deatheaters? They have to know by now that they had Harry. How do you think You-Know-Who will react to that betrayal?" She pressed closer, her chocolate brown eyes more like molten caramel they were so bright with emotions and intensity. "So whut's it going to be?"**

**"Hermione, that's not fair..." Harry argued weakly. "He may have saved you tonight, but think of who he is."  
**

**"So help me Harry, if you just point out that he's a Slytherin again, I will hex you." She warned.**

**Harry glowered. "I'm being serious this time Hermione. As Ron pointed out, he _is_ a Malfoy. They are like the poster family for Purebloods. _He_ has been the ringleader in more anti-muggle debacles than anyone else at Hogwarts. Or have you forgotten the last few years and his constant reminder of that fact?" It was harsh, but she needed to hear it. Her willingness to forgive the blond wizard worried him. If he hadn't taken the other man's wand, he might have suspected the imperious curse.**

"Aye.  He's made it pretty bloody clear what he thinks of Muggleborns Hermione," Ron said, his tone somewhere between condescending and annoyed.  "Or have you forgotten all the times I hexed the bastard for calling you a..." he flushed beneath his freckles and shook his head.  Tightening his grip on his wand, he glowered at the blonde and growled, "I say, his Death Eater pals should have at him if they want him.  He decided to take that mark?  He deserves the bloody consequences."

Draco flinched involuntarily and his hand twitched to go to his forearm, though he just barely managed to hold back the desire.  He thought about defending himself (he hadn't  _decided_ to take the mark, Father had decided that for him) but he doubted that they'd either believe him or give a shit to be honest.  

Cursing beneath his breath, he twisted to head away down the beach since that ponce Potter had his wand and he couldn't just disapparate.  He didn't need to stick around to see where this was going and there was no way he'd let her have to make a choice between him and them.  He knew what choice she'd make and she'd be right to make it.  

After all... it wasn't like they were wrong...

**Hermione stared at them, opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut as she struggled for an argument to that. She couldn't deny their logic after all. The problem was that she also knew they were wrong. Sure there was a lot for Draco to answer, and she didn't for a moment believe him completely innocent, but she was clinging to the fact that regardless of his past decisions, he'd finally switched sides. He'd defied everyone to save her, and that had to mean something.**

**"Look-we'll get him someplace safe Hermione, but I'm sorry, I don't trust him." Harry said quietly, dropping his wand completely. "I can't forget what I saw in the Astronomy tower." He added quietly, his voice rough with emotion.**

**Hermione flinched, and looked down. They'd all lost so much at the hands of the Deatheaters, and regardless of what he'd done for her today, Draco had never made any bones about where he thought his place was in the war they'd been fighting. She licked her lips, waffling faintly, though Ron's adamant blustering had a way of setting her teeth on edge. "Oh stuff a sock in it Ron." She growled, shoving back her hair before nodding. "Fine. I'll talk to him." She glanced at Harry and added, "But it's time to start considering that maybe he's been just as trapped as you have." Her gaze flickered to the scar on his forehead pointedly.**

**Harry touched the jagged scar on his forehead lightly, out of habit and then he glanced down the beach after Draco. "I'll think about it." He promised.**

**Hermione nodded, believing him. Harry made more than a few mistakes, but she'd never once doubted his sincerity. "Thank you." Not even looking at Ron, she pivoted and moved back down the beach toward Draco. She didn't like the idea of not keeping him with them, but she understood. She also knew she'd be doing everything she could to change people's minds. There was more to Draco Malfoy than a pureblood heritage and money, and she'd prove it somehow...**

He heard her coming and really  _really_ wished that he had his wand.  He didn't want to have this conversation with her.  He didn't want to hear her tell him that he had to go.  

Even though he knew that that is exactly what needed to happen.

Taking a deep breath, he held up a hand before she made it to him and said, "Relax Granger, I'm gone alright?  It's fine."  He tried for a sneer, needing her to send him away properly so that he could have done with this obsession once and for all... and so that he could get himself to really leave her in this kind of danger.  "I never expected to be welcome in the Saint Potter club."

**Dread had slowed her feet, but somehow the stretch of beach between them was all too brief despite the distance he'd put between them. At his words, however, she drew up short. It was the sort of gruffness she expected from him, and she knew it was to mask what he was really feeling, but she'd lost her patience.**

**So instead of trying to explain and make him understand, she marched across the remaining space between them and glared up at him. "Right, because it's their fault. You're totally innocent and you've never done anything to make them doubt your sincerity." She closed her eyes and looked down. She had not planned on a stupid lecture. _Men_. Why did they have to make everything so complicated. "If you thought you were just going to waltz in and get cozy, then you're not as intelligent as I thought you were." It was harsh, but she'd learned that with Draco, sometimes that was the only way he'd listen. **

**She licked her lips, blew out a soft breath and glanced up. "The work doesn't stop here Draco. We'll take you someplace safe, but you'll have to earn their trust." She searched his eyes, doing her best to ignore how entrancing they were and added, "And mine."**

**She took a step back and shook out her hands because they were tingling with the desire to take his, and now was definitely not the time for that. "Only you can decide if its worth it." She backed up a step and jerked her chin. "Come on. Never good to linger out in the open like this." She turned, carefully sucking in a deep breath, doing her best to still her pounding heart.**

_The work doesn't stop here..._

Such a simple phrase, yet somehow the words felt almost prophetic in that moment.  Because he suddenly realized exactly how right she was.  Not only would the work not stop there, it would never stop.  Even if, in some insane, impossible world, he managed to convince her to love him the way he loved her, they would spend their lives fighting this fight.  He was a Pureblood.  And if he were to be openly with a Muggleborn?  There would be so much hatred flung at Hermione for 'ruining the Malfoy name'.  And there would be an equal amount of that hatred, if not more of it, coming toward him as well.  The Blood Traitor.

He swallowed tightly as he looked at her, his silver eyes slowly dancing along her beautiful face.  He took in the utter perfection of her silhouette there on the beach as the sun slowly set in the distance... And yet there was so much more to her than that as well.  There was the thrill of competition as they ran neck and neck in scholastics.  There was the way she was funny without ever meaning to be, and the way she was selflessly kind and suicidally loyal...  She was perfect.

And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was worth it.

Sighing softly, nodded his head in agreement with himself just once before he moved forward and began to walk along the beach beside her.  And if his hand brushed along hers as they walked in just the tiniest of caresses... well it looked like he was just swaying a bit on the unsteady sand...


	9. Draco

~*~*~ Chapter 9, Draco ~*~*~

He had to contact her.  

Draco had had every intention of avoiding doing exactly that whilst he laid about in another of his Godfather's safehouses.  He'd determined that he needed to let her get on with whatever she and her merry little band were doing without further interference from him.  And when they'd dropped him at said safehouse and left with little more than a 'good luck' from her it had helped quite a bit.  Granted, Weasley had been tugging at her hand to disapparate about 5 seconds after they'd apparated in so it hadn't really been her choice, but he'd been pissed at life in general he'd been working himself into a nice little fit of temper worthy of his 1st year at Hogwarts...

And then Dobby had appeared with a wand and said that 'Miss Hermione wanted Dobby to bring this so former Master Draco can defend himself'.  It was all he could do not to swoon.

He might as well be a bloody Puff.

But before he could even get in his first spying...  _observation_... of her through the bracelet, his Godfather had shown up and he had a wand pointed at his throat and a demand that he explain himself on his hands.  

It had been a bit easier to explain given that Uncle Sev knew perfectly well that he was in love with Hermione.  He was fairly sure that his Godfather was harsher on her partially  _because_  Draco fancied her and she wouldn't give him the time of day.  The fact that Draco was a little prat to her was beside the point.  But then, Severus had been known to play favourites every once and awhile...

Still, after he'd explained what had happened and Severus had called him a variety of very-inventive forms of idiot, he'd been surprised to find himself the recipient of a rather appraising look rather than the sound boxing of his ears he'd expected.  And before he could so much as utter the word 'what', Snape had snapped his fingers and summoned a piece of parchment and an ink and quill.  He tapped the quill and it began to write out a list of dates, times and locations.  When he'd asked what this was all about, he'd  _then_ gotten the ear boxing before he found the parchment dusted and thrust into his hand as his Godfather... his  _DeathEater_ _Godfather_... informed him that he needed to get this information to Granger quickly.  Before he'd even been able to splutter out a response to that, Sev had calmly told him that he'd get him more information later and that he needed to keep Sev's name out of it.  One more set of abuse to his poor head and the older Wizard disappeared in a flourish of robes that Draco had tried more than a few times to emulate in the mirror... with no success.

Now, however, he was left with a dilemma.  Because technically, yes, he _could_ contact her.  One of the charms on the bracelet was a little book which would start flapping it's pages until she finally investigated it.  And when she touched it, it would open up into a full book that would mirror one that he carried.  He could write a message and she'd see it as he wrote. If Father ever found out that he'd taken that bracelet out of the family vaults...

Well... he supposed technically it wouldn't be much worse than the situation he currently found himself in...

Shaking his head at that, he paced across the small den of the little flat in London.  If he did use the bracelet, there were several potential problems.  First, if she was near Potter and Weasley when the pages started rustling, one of those two idiot Gryffindors would probably rip the bracelet off her wrist and hex it.  Second, even if she  _was_ alone, she might choose to talk to the two idiot Gryffindors about it before she investigated... which would circle back to the first result.

And third... even if she was alone and investigated immediately... that would mean she'd  _know_ that the bracelet he'd given her after the Yule Ball was enchanted.  And, given that Hermione was Hermione, she'd investigate it.  And he wasn't sure how she'd react if she discovered the laundry list of useful things that bracelet could do... most of them spying...  _observation_... related...

Cursing softly, he shoved his hands back through his hair for what was probably the millionth time.  Because he had to contact her.  He trusted Severus. He knew that she didn't and he even understood why, but he'd always questioned Severus's loyalties.  He knew the man behind all the masks that he presented to the various parts of the world.  He'd seen him slip between Death Eater at the Manor to Professor and 'Dumbledore's Man' at the school.  But he also saw a side of him no one else did.  He saw the man who soothed his tears and shared victorious smiles with him when he caught the Snitch.  He was the one who helped him when he was having trouble with something in Ancient Runes and the one who 'summoned him to his office' when he was sick with a cold so that he could feed him potions and make him drink broth.

And he'd never been able to reconcile that man who cared about him so much, with the facade of the Death Eater and spy for The Dark Lord and evil right hand at the Death Eater's table.  He knew he was more than that.

Which meant that the information he had for her was vitally important if he'd risked giving it to him.  So he had to contact her.

He just really,  _really_ wished there was another way than-

And then his lips curved into a grin as an idea came to him...


	10. Dramione

~*~*~ Chapter 10, Dramione ~*~*~

"Dobby!" Draco called out.  And he was feeling extremely damned proud of himself as well.  No use of the bracelet.  No giving himself away.  Perfect solution. 

Letting out a breath of relief when the elf instantly snapped into existence, he grinned at him and said, "Hey Dobby.  Think you could get a message to Miss Granger for me?"

**Dobby tilted his head with apparent curiosity, his large eyes completely focused on his old master before a sly smile began to curve his lips. "Draco likes Hermione Granger!" He declared before scurrying closer. "Dobby help." He agreed, watching the young man intently.**

Draco blinked at the little elf in shocked horror.  He opened and closed his mouth several times, then looked around the flat as though someone else must've been hiding there and could confirm that it was  _crazy_ to imagine Dobby could know that... 

And then he remembered that Dobby knew him far...  _far_ better than he liked to think about.  He felt his errors and he felt the relief of his successes.  He'd borne the brunt of all his Father's disappointment in his only child and heir.

Yet, still, the little elf had never failed to bring him a cup of warmed milk with a bit of nutmeg and cinnamon before he went to sleep in all the years he'd lived at the Manor.

Barely resisting the urge to kneel down and catch the elf into his arms, he took a moment to curse whatever in the name of Hades was wrong with him all at once.  Then he cleared his throat and said, "I... well it's not exactly like that or... um... anything it's just..." he cursed again and thrust the parchment forward.  "Here, this is a list of the dates, times and locations of patrols.  You need to get it to 'Mion-" he grit his teeth and ground out, "to Granger."

**The little house elf's eyes grew so wide, they somehow managed to consume even more of his face than normal. "Draco wants to help Harry Potter?" The instant irritation that flickered in those familiar silver eyes had Dobby cringing back out of habit-not that Draco had ever hurt him, but his sire certainly had.**

Draco blinked at the little elf in shock and then felt his stomach churn dangerously with what felt like bile.  The idea that someone could flinch back from him like that... once he'd craved it.  He'd wanted to inspire the fear and terror in others that his Father so enjoyed instilling in he and his Mother.  He'd enjoyed the flinches of fear and the instant ducking of heads.

And then he'd seen her crying her eyes out in third year after a particularly nasty little bit of vitriol he'd spewed at her.  He'd seen her sitting in a darkened corner at the edge of the stairs, one knee bloody from where he'd tripped her as he'd called her a filthy Mudblood and her books scattered from where she'd dropped her pack.  And he'd stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle at his sides (probably the only reason she hadn't hexed him) but then had to go back on his own because he'd forgotten a book in class. 

And when he'd seen her crying... everything else just ceased.

He'd moved forward very slowly, very quietly, and knelt before her, picking up one of her dropped books.  He met her eyes, his own shining with sorrow, and whispered, "I... I'm sorry..." as he held the book out to her.  She'd hesitated only a moment as she looked up at him through luminous dark chocolate eyes... then she'd taken the book hesitantly from his hand.

There'd been more to it of course.  She'd just been trying to do the right thing with Harry about a gift (she hadn't told him what, just said a gift) and it had gotten her into a fight with Ron and Harry.  And him on top of it had just been too much.

Neither of them knew afterward why he'd comforted her.  Nor why she accepted the comforting.  She said that she told him about the fight in a way to prove that that's what she'd really been upset about, but they'd both known there'd been no reason for him to apologize in the first place, no reason for her to accept it... no reason for them to them to talk at all.

It had been the first time they'd had one of their strange little encounters.  It had been far from the last...

Taking a deep breath, he knelt down before Dobby and reached out very slowly to touch his little hand.  He squeezed it lightly and said, "Dobby, listen to me please.  This list  _will_ help your bloody Saint Potter, so if that motivates you to move faster then have at."  He looked deep into those lamp-like eyes and said, "But my concern is Hermione.  So please... please go quickly."

**He listened intently, his bobby head causing his large ears to flop faintly before he bounced away with a grin. "Dobby do it." He agreed and seconds later, he'd vanished only to reappear looking almost embarrassed. Holding out his hand he said for the paper of dates. Once Draco had settled that into his hand, he smiled again and vanished once more...**


End file.
